


Choice Assignment

by anticyclone



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/M, Mind Control, Possessive Behavior, Pressured Into Honeypot Missions By Organization, Sex pollen affecting only one person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 04:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclone/pseuds/anticyclone
Summary: Joan is willing to do a lot for the AM. Damien has a tendency to go where he hasn't been invited.





	Choice Assignment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radioqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioqueen/gifts).



"Did you really think you were the only person the AM sent me after?" Joan asked.

The look on Damien's face made her instantly regret the question. Intellectually, at least. In her gut it was a little  _ too  _ satisfying, the sudden sharpness to his features.

He laid his arm against the wall next to her head. It cut off her view of the bar down the hall to her left. The light in this area was muted and filtered. In this spot it was pretty dark. Before Damien had chased off her target for the night and most definitely from the AM, forever, the other atypical had winked off the light above Joan's head. When you couldn't make people want to look away from you, it was easier to surreptitiously make out in shadows.

"Did you book the same hotel and everything?" Damien asked. His weight was all on the arm blocking her in, but he had his other hand on her hip. "Or like, what, does the room reflect the person's power? You took me back to a suite, did this guy rate better? Or were you going to fuck him in the hall?"

Joan flushed. There were a lot of people in the bar. The bar was crowded. The back hall was less crowded, but it was still hot. Damien was crowding her. She was hot. She swallowed, and Damien watched her throat.

"The AM takes care of all mission arrangements. It's all administrative. There's nothing personal involved, Damien."

He grinned. It wasn't a happy look. "Does she make your boy do it for you?"

Joan wasn't going to rise to that. She leveled a flat look at him and pushed his hand off her hip. "Speaking of administration, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be under curfew."

"I have been released on my own reconnaissance."

"And as a total coincidence, you decided to come here."

"Guess I'm just lucky."

He put his hand back on her hip and touched his forehead to hers. Joan had to count during her next inhale to make sure it was deep enough. Damien was smiling, lazy, the sharpness on his face blurring now that the moment of confrontation with the other atypical was quickly fading.

"You want it," he said. "I can tell."

She did not turn her face away. "Yes."

"That was … surprisingly straightforward, Dr. B."

God, she was tired. All he ever wanted to do was play these games. "We both know the AM gives out supplements for these missions."

He blinked, and leaned back slightly to tilt his head at her. "We do?"

Joan felt her stomach drop. She did. It was sharp, and panic whirled up with its fall, and then it was all gone because Damien was rolling his thumb in circles over her hip and when her breath hitched it wasn't for the reason he wanted to. So there was no panic, not when she looked at him.

"It would be inefficient to send an agent out on an assignment like this without taking steps to ensure its success. Especially when someone has reservations."

"How long have you had reservations, Dr. Bright?"

"This is not … my choice of assignment." She clenched her jaw, but Damien was  _ pressing _ . It felt like a hand on her back, steering her, when she could feel one hand on her hip and was still boxed in by his arm on the wall. She could only keep her feet planted for so long. "The AM is assisting me in a personal project of a - of a discreet nature, and in return requires some gray work off the books."

"Right. So it's not in my file that you sucked me off in a hotel elevator?"

Joan glared at him.

He slid his hand from her hip to cup her ass, and pulled her up so her stomach touched his. She flushed again, bracing herself with her hands on his shoulders. "How long do those supplements last?"

Joan pressed her lips together.

***

They left the bar through the back door, so her back-up in the crowd didn't seen them go. 

But when they walked into the hotel together, Damien's hand on the small of her back, the AM agent using the free wifi in the lobby didn't even look up. Even though Damien was, extremely obviously, not Joan's target for the night. He leaned in to kiss her cheek while they waited for the elevator. The AM agent didn't stand up to casually follow them. When they stepped inside and Joan looked back out at the lobby, the agent was gone. Her pulse picked up a little.

"You leave your hair down on all your dates?" Damien curled some of her hair around his fingers.

"Do you want me to put it up?" Second floor. Third.

Damien squinted a little, then smiled. "Nah."

Fourth floor. "You can't read my mind, Damien. We've talked about this."

"Good as. I can tell you like this," he said, running his fingers through her hair. Fifth floor. "Just like I can tell how much it's  _ killing  _ you to still have your clothes on. Whatever they gave you was the real stuff, Dr. B."

The doors opened onto the seventh floor, and no AM agent was waiting there. Joan's heart fell.

She swallowed it. Damien ran his hand over her back, his hand hot past the fabric of her blouse. Joan lead him down the hall to the room the AM had booked. Empty. No agent inside, either. No one was coming for her.

Damien leaned down to kiss the back of her neck when she held still a moment too long. 

"How did you find me tonight?"

Damien snorted and tipped his head to one side.

Joan stepped out of her shoes. When she turned around to look at him his pupils were dilated. Hers probably were too. He wasn't…  _ wrong.  _ The powder she'd inhaled - and nearly coughed up a lung over - made her feel like her skin was burning. The carpet was cool on her bare feet. Damien was tall, and kind of good-looking, even though he needed a haircut. She knew from past experience that he was a little… sentimental… But there was no getting back the target for the night, and he was  _ here. _

So.

"How did you find me tonight?" she asked, starting to undo the buttons on her blouse.

Damien wet his lips. "You left Google Maps up on your computer."

She blinked at him, hands paused over her chest.

"You also don't cup your hand when you enter your PIN while we walk through the AM." Damien leaned forward a little to finish off her buttons. Joan let him push her blouse off her shoulders. It slipped down her back and puddled at her feet. "1988? A guy might think that means something."

"Not everything is about you." God, now she had to change her PIN.

Damien glanced around the room. She had brought an overnight bag. There was a box of condoms on the nightstand, next to the alarm clock and the phone. "Yeah," he said. "I get that."

Joan reached out and slid both her hands under his shirt, which made him grin. She touched his hips and then ran her hands up his sides. She hadn't really thought he was carrying a knife or anything, but it was good to check.

Damien undid the clasp on her skirt and nudged it down until it fell to the floor at her feet, too. Joan twisted her hands around so she could pull his shirt off entirely. Since he'd gotten forced onto the AM's meal and exercise plan he'd toned up some, though not lost any of the 'I slink around in hoodies even in the summer' paleness. Living in a self-contained building with only the occasional day pass would probably do that for you.

"Does Director Wadsworth know where you are?" 

Damien pushed her hair back from her face. "I don't really need Wadsworth's permission to fuck you," he said.

"It'd be nice if you asked my permission."

Grinning, Damien touched his other hand to her stomach and dipped his fingers under the waistband of her underwear. Joan bit her lip when his fingers slid easily into her. She had to lock her shoulders to keep herself from shivering. The grin on Damien's face got broader and he pushed the heel of his hand flat against her, rubbing his hand over her clit while he started to move his fingers back and forth. "Feels like I've got it," he said.

"It's not the same." Joan clenched her hands at her side, for a beat. The curtains weren't drawn all the way so she could still see the street below. She'd only left one lamp on so most of the room was dark. Damien was there, so she pushed his too-long hair out of his eyes. "How much of this is you?"

"You know, it's actually hard to tell. You should be more careful about what you drink, Joan," he said, wincing when her fingers reflexively dug into his shoulder. "Jesus."

"I don't. Like. This." It was hard to talk. The heat was making her tongue burn, her vision blur at the edges.

Damien brought his hand out of her and touched it to her back. Three of his fingers were wet. He pressed his lips to hers, and opened his mouth, and walked her backward until her legs hit the bed and she was sitting on it with him standing over her.

"Seven hours," she said, breathing out.

"What?"

"The supplement lasts for seven hours." She had to pick the syllables out one at a time.

He stared at her for a second. Then,  _ "Jesus." _

"It's been four hours. The - The other - The target took some convincing. That's why it lasts for so long. They don't want it to wear off before…" Her voice trailed off. She bent forward and kissed Damien's stomach, and from the way he jumped, that hadn't been him pulling her anymore. It was kind of hard to tell, like he'd said. Normally she could tell. It was the only reason they kept having her run his sessions.

It was against some kind of code to dip her head down and nuzzle at his hip. Not that Damien tried to stop her from pushing his jeans and boxers down, or from stepping out of them. Then he cupped a hand behind her head. This wasn't  _ enough _ , but she had to get it started, somehow. Or Damien would never stop talking.

Not that he stopped now, either. "Were you going to do this for the other guy?" he asked.

He laughed when Joan glanced up at him, pushing his hips forward so her lips met the base of his cock. Laughter was not a good look on his face. Joan moved her tongue and the sound of it died. And, of course, she  _ had _ done this before. Damien had been half hard already and the last time she'd done this had been burned in Technicolor into Joan's mind. It wasn't hard to remember that he liked her looking at him while she swirled her tongue over the head of his cock or that he'd start  _ pushing  _ for her to play with her nipples.

"I saw him, you know. Put his hand up your skirt at the bar." He threaded his fingers into her hair. "At least when I did that you smiled."

Joan pulled back. "If I smiled it was because you wanted me to."

"That would kind of be the point."

"The thing they give me gets worse on each assignment," Joan said, even though she didn't want to be saying it. She stood. She wanted to be lying down - lucky there was a bed behind her to catch her fall. Damien jerked slightly, like he hadn't been expecting that. He kneeled on the bed over her and touched the side of her head before she could press her face into the sheets. "I don't understand why you want to know this."

Damien pulled her underwear over her hips and tossed it somewhere on the floor behind them. "How many guys have you fucked because the AM told you to?"

Joan rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. It brought her face close to Damien's, and he swallowed hard when she kissed him and brought his lower lip between hers. She spread her legs a little and Damien inched forward, but when she started to lay back again he latched onto her hips and pulled her so she had to sit all the way up.

"Are you doing this because you don't have to make me - make me want to have sex?" Joan asked. Her jaw wanted to clench, but she couldn't quite make it. "So you're trying to make me tell you things instead?"

"I guess you haven't noticed, but I'm  _ usually  _ trying to make you tell me things." Damien unclasped her bra behind her back. It went on the floor, too. "How many guys? Including me."

Joan felt his ability in her gut, pulling on her. She tried to press her lips together and couldn't. Damien looked away when she spat  _ "Five" _ at him.

His face was sharp again.

She made herself take a few deep breaths. "Put on a condom."

"I don't think so." He did reach out to the nightstand, but just to knock the box over.

_ "Damien." _

"Like you said. The AM is going to 'ensure mission success.' I know I'm clean, and they would've checked you out. We're fine." Damien kissed her bare shoulder and pulled Joan into his lap.

Joan found herself wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close. Her breasts flattened against his chest and he grinned a little. He always got the same look on his face whenever he managed to snap a piece of her shield. Shit. Was this what he pictured every time he made that face?

He pushed into her and Joan dropped her head onto his shoulder. He angled himself to thrust deeper. It felt like the threads of heat under her skin started to dissolve. She hated that being on top of him made it better. She hated that he already knew to run his nails over her spine. She especially hated the noise she made when he did.

"I have a hard time buying this is all some drug, Doc."

"You are here too. You have repeatedly made it clear how you regarded that night even after I explained it all to you. And you made it quite - quite clear what you wanted me to do if this happened again," she said.

"You're the one who keeps telling me it's not mind control. Not sure I can  _ want  _ you into an orgasm."

"If you seriously believe I've already-"

"No, I don't. Which is why I'm saying. I don't think this is all the drug. Or all me. Now… you got anything to show me, Dr. B?"

Joan swallowed, hard, around a whimper when Damien put his hands on her thighs to spread her a little wider. He was so fucking  _ hard _ and she - she was wet and every time he thrust into her, the burning under her skin faded a little and her mind cleared just that much more. When this was all over she was absolutely going to kill him for making her feel like this. For making her so  _ relieved  _ that she was kissing his jaw and pulling one of his hands down to her clit.

When she came she started to shake, and her hands slipped off his skin. Damien exhaled and shoved forward, slamming her down flat against the bed. He had better purchase to thrust into her this way. He didn't stop just because it was too much. Her fingers grabbed onto the sheets and she whimpered because Damien wouldn't  _ stop. _

"It's too much - Damien, stop. Stop just for a  _ minute _ -"

"Hasn't been four hours, has it?" Damien nipped at her throat. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. "You'll be fine."

"I don't want to be  _ fine.  _ I want-" Joan gasped.  _ "Damien." _

He just grinned at her. And kept up until a couple of minutes later, when he went still over her. Joan wanted to be pushing him away and ran a hand through his hair instead. The box of condoms was on the floor and sure, Damien said he was clean, and she  _ was  _ clean, and had a piece of plastic in her arm beside - but Damien was in her and, fuck, all she could do was lock her legs around him.

It was calm for just long enough that he started to doze off.

Twenty minutes had passed when she laid her hand flat against his chest. He opened one eye and glanced down at her. "Yeah?"

She just stared at him.

"Again?"

"Damien." Joan touched the side of her face. "It feels like my skin is going to burn off."

He opened his other eye. "What?"

"You can stay if you can help. But if you can't, you need to go."

Damien sat up. "Sorry. You saying you think I can't go again?"

"That's not-" Joan stopped herself and covered her face with her hands. Then she stretched both arms above her head, which made Damien stare at her chest. "You can help. Or you can go."

"You're, uh. You're serious?"

Joan sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Before she could stand, Damien wrapped an arm around her waist. She shut her eyes. By now, she should have reported in to the AM. Text, call, whatever. She hadn't, but no one had tried calling in. There had been no knocks at the door. Damien's hand trailed down to curl over her thigh.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
